


Tale of the dead cat

by Ischa



Series: Black Boy [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate History, Anal Plug, Bisexuality, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Male Character of Color, Multi, Punishment, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 19:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13277967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: Thomas and Bastian shared everything since they were kids, so why was Bastian hiding his new boytoy from Thomas?“You sure you want to go home now? In your state?” Bastian asked. “Isn’t Francis home?”“He’s always home, except when he’s out. He likes to read and do things indoors and he hates the society circles and-“ he let himself fall down into the chair again. Maybe Bastian was right. Maybe he should stay and sleep it off.Suddenly Bastian’s meaning sunk in like a stone. “I wouldn’t do anything to him.”“You already did,” that cursed little Monkey pointed out.





	Tale of the dead cat

**Author's Note:**

> This is set directly after Monkey and Little Lord and I recommend reading the other parts as well, even if they are not needed to enjoy the porn.

~One~  
“I didn’t know you were busy,” Thomas said, entering the bedroom.   
Bastian looked up from his task, which was currently spanking a tight looking ass. “Your servants led me right up.” Thomas added, as he closed the door and looked from Bastian to the boy. The boy was naked, except for a hood on his head. Which, as he looked closer, he realized wasn’t a hood, but one of Bastian’s pillowcases. It had been put loosely on the boys head, obscuring his face and neck, pooling a bit on his shoulders.   
Bastian hit the boy again and the boy whimpered.   
“What did he do?” 

Bastian sighed. “He’s been naughty.” 

Thomas snorted. “Obviously, or there would be no need for punishment.” 

“He was disrespectful.” 

“Your little Monkey runs his mouth all the time and you never punish him,” Thomas replied. 

“That’s because I’m his favorite,” Aeobi said from the chair he was reading in. He was smiling down at the page not even looking up as he talked to Thomas. It made Thomas want to grab him by his hair and – another slap of hand on ass diverted his attention from Bastian’s black pet. 

Bastian smiled, looking over at his black boy. “It’s true.” He slapped the boy on his knees again and the boy whimpered prettily. Thomas could feel himself getting interested.   
“Could you grab the black small one for me,” Bastian said, looking at Thomas. “As you’re here and all, you can make yourself useful.” 

Thomas huffed, but went to the dresser anyway. He got out the box with Bastian’s exotic toys and grabbed the small black plug. It was made of smooth wood. Ebony, and felt heavy in his hand.   
“He’s a virgin then?” Thomas asked. 

“He had two fingers inside him, but yeah…that’s why we use the plugs,” Bastian answered. 

Thomas was mostly a ‘make them take it’ kind of guy, but to each their own. And he couldn’t deny that watching Bastian prepare a virgin over weeks to take his cook wasn’t fun.   
Bastian grabbed the oil and started to prepare the boy. Thomas watched. It was strange, he couldn’t see the boy’s face, but he still felt some measure of tenderness towards him. He shook it off. “So?”

“You could get it wet,” Aeobi said. 

Bastian smirked. “You could.” 

He had half a mind to protest, but whatever. He was here already and it wasn’t like this wasn’t fun. He licked the plug and then sucked it into his mouth.   
Bastian was describing it to the boy in his lap. Once the plug was deemed wet enough he handed it over to Bastian.   
“Pretty little hole,” he remarked, licking his lips. “Has it been tongue fucked yet?” 

The boy gasped, but Thomas wasn’t sure if it was because of his crude words, or because Bastian chose that moment to insert the plug. He did it slowly and gently.   
The boy squirmed on Bastian’s lap and Bastian let his hand caress that gorgeous ass. 

“You, my friend, have a filthy mouth,” Bastian said. 

Thomas shrugged. “It seems you’re nearly done here. I’ll wait outside. I did come here because of business. Not that I didn’t enjoy this.” 

Bastian grinned at him. “I’ll be right out.” 

Thomas nodded and left the bedroom. 

~+~  
Bastian’s servants had prepared tea and a snack, for which Thomas was grateful. He sat down in one of the armchairs and waited for his friend to join him.   
It didn’t take long. 

“So? New toy. You didn’t tell me you had a new toy, I’m wounded.” 

Bastian gave him a look that clearly called him on his bullshit and sat down. “Thomas.”

“And what’s with the hood?” 

Bastian looked into his cup and then at Thomas. “He’s rich, he’s well known, he’s…ashamed of what he likes and wants.” 

“Ah, so you’re keeping his identity a secret. Even from me. How noble of you.” 

“You would do the same and you know it,” Bastian replied. His tone was uncharacteristically harsh. 

Thomas wasn’t so sure. “You like him,” he said. 

Bastian shrugged. “He’s pretty enough and fun enough to play with.” 

Thomas hummed. “You’re not going to share, are you?” 

Bastian looked at him, took a sip of his tea, clearly considering the request. “Probably not.” 

It stung. “Now about that nasty business…” Thomas said, because he didn’t want to think about that pale pretty ass anymore.

 

~+~  
“You’re in a mood,” Francis said from the sofa. 

Thomas turned around startled. “Didn’t see you there.” 

“Because you’re in a mood. I thought you went out with friends.” 

“It’s that black monkey.”

“Don’t call him that!” Francis hissed. “His name is Aeobi.” 

Thomas looked at his brother. “I can call him whatever I want.” 

“I thought you’d be better than this.” 

“Than what?” 

“Than them. You know that some of them are really nasty, don’t pretend,” Francis said. 

“You always hated society,” Thomas said. 

“Because they’re all false and mean and nasty,” Francis replied, snapping his book shut and sitting up. “How would you feel if they said such things about me? If they called me a plaything, a monkey or worse.” 

Thomas sighed. “Well, you aren’t a rich man’s fuckpet, so it’s a moot point.” 

Francis flinched. “Aeobi isn’t either.” 

“What do you know? You only saw him once. And I remember you enjoying yourself, playing with him.” 

“He wanted it,” Francis said. 

“Did he?” 

“You don’t think he can want things? Or people?” His brother asked. 

“Are you sweet on that black slave boy?” 

“That is not – that is not the point I’m trying to make, Thomas. Do you really only think of him as a thing?” 

Was his brother sweet on Bastian’s slave boy? He had to admit that he himself liked the Monkey. Had to admit that he had been obsessed with him. Bastian sure as hell was, too.   
“He’s a slave. Bought and paid for, Francis,” Thomas answered. 

“He’s just a boy,” Francis argued. 

Thomas sighed. It was no use discussing this with his brother. Francis was too soft hearted for the daily cruelties of the world. “Bought and paid for.” 

Francis crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think it’s right.” 

“No one says you have to own slaves. Once you have your own house, you can pay your servants. But don’t think for one moment that if one of them catches your eye that he will refuse you if you should pursue them.” 

“They can choose to not sleep with me,” Francis said. 

“Can they?” Thomas asked. “They are dependent on you. You’re their employer. They can’t refuse without being afraid they get thrown out. The only way to be sure someone wants to fuck you is, if you fuck an equal. Or you can just man up and pay a whore. At least then it’s a business transaction.” 

“When did you become so jaded?” Francis asked. 

Around the time he had figured out that their father was fucking every servant girl in the house, if she was willing or not, but he wasn’t going to tell Francis that. Thomas had always wanted to protect his brother. He didn’t always do a good job, because he wasn’t a good person himself, but he had always tried, was still trying. “It’s how the world works.”

Francis stayed silent for so long that Thomas didn’t think he would say anything else. “I don’t believe everything you say. Not anymore,” he replied, softly, eventually. 

Thomas nodded. Privately he thought that was a good thing. 

~Two~  
“Are you going to tell me who it was once you’re over him?” Thomas asked. The unknown boy had been staring in his latest sexual fantasies a lot. Had been haunting his dreams as well. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Bastian replied. He was stroking his little monkey’s hair. Both of them were naked, as was Thomas for that matter. He had been half on his way to his favorite whorehouse and then decided that he didn’t want to go after all. He had called on his oldest friend instead. And as pretty much always when Thomas was in a mood to fuck one thing lead to another. 

“You know that only makes me more curious.” 

Bastian grinned. “I know.” 

Thomas sighed. “What about sharing him? We shared pretty much everyone. Hell…I shared my brother with you.” 

Bastian looked at him sharply. “That was…it wasn’t planed was it?” 

Thomas laughed. “Oh god, no,” he stared into the dark red wine in his glass before he downed it in one go. “To be honest for the days after I was waiting for him to pull away, to call me – all kinds of things I probably deserve to be called and damn me to hell. He didn’t.”

“He loves you,” the boy said. His voice was a bit raspy, probably because Thomas hadn’t been gentle. He barely ever was with the monkey when they were fucking. 

“Well, that’s not always a good thing, is it?” Thomas replied. 

The boy turned around so he could look at him. “Do you even love anyone?” 

Thomas grabbed for the wine bottle and wished they had something stronger instead. “Get me some whisky,” he said. 

The boy didn't get up. Neither did Bastian. Thomas sighed. He put the wine bottle to his lips and then drank the rest of it.   
Did he love anyone? He had thought he loved Bastian. Back in the day when such things were still full of wonder and sunshine and innocence. And then...well, and then he got his cock sucked for the first time and the innocence was lost.   
He had wondered about Francis’ reaction, or lack of it, to be honest. Thomas liked to tell himself that he had been drinking too much and there had been hashish too that night, that it was all more or less a blur, but it was a lie.   
He could remember enough.   
He could remember too much.   
The way Francis kissed and gasped and tasted. The way his hips moved as he fucked Aeobi, the noises he made. How trusting he had been.  
Obviously Francis had been drunk too. But still.   
He loves you, the monkey had said. And Thomas knew that Francis did. Probably more than he should.   
Thomas slammed the bottle on the table hard. He was disgusted with himself. He didn’t deserve Francis’ love.   
Francis had always thought that Bastian was the cruel one, but…but, Thomas had no illusions, he was the one who drove Bastian to these things. 

“Do you love me?” He asked Bastian suddenly. 

Bastian closed his eyes briefly. “Would I put up with you otherwise?” 

“Probably not,” Thomas admitted. 

“Do you want to fuck your brother?” Bastian asked. 

Did he? He didn’t know, except…maybe, maybe he did know, maybe he did want it. Because his mind still went there, still dragged those moments, those snippets up from that night, when he took himself in hand.   
“I didn’t drag him into your bedroom,” Thomas said sharply. 

“No, that was Aeobi,” Bastian replied. 

And had that been planned? Had the Monkey known that Francis was his brother? 

“He looked lost and like fun, and he’s pretty,” the boy said. 

“So you thought you could snatch him up?” Thomas asked. 

“I didn’t force him. If I remember correctly, it was you lot that played with me. That tied me up, that fucked me. He was…nice. He’s so much nicer than you, Thomas,” Aeobi said. 

Well, that wasn’t news to anyone who knew the both of them.   
“You could have stayed away, or found someone else to fuck that night, when you saw who was with us, but you didn’t,” Aeobi added. 

“I was drunk, and you’re always a good time,” Thomas replied with a leer. 

Aeobi rolled his eyes. The boy was putting on airs, Thomas thought. Maybe he needed to be thought a lesson. Sadly it wasn’t his privilege to do that. He wondered briefly how sex between Bastian and his black boy was, when there was no one else there to see. Where they tender? Loving?   
Something as sharp as broken glass twisted in his stomach, or maybe further up – somewhere in his ribcage, at that thought.  
From the first time he met the black boy he knew things were going to change between Bastian and him. He hadn’t been wrong. 

“I need to get home,” he said, getting up. He was drunk and not in a good place either. 

“You sure you want to go home now? In your state?” Bastian asked. “Isn’t Francis home?” 

“He’s always home, except when he’s out. He likes to read and do things indoors and he hates the society circles and-“ he let himself fall down into the chair again. Maybe Bastian was right. Maybe he should stay and sleep it off.   
Suddenly Bastian’s meaning sunk in like a stone. “I wouldn’t do anything to him.” 

“You already did,” that cursed little Monkey pointed out. 

Thomas hated that the boy was right. 

~+~  
“Tell me about the dead cat,” Francis said two days later as they were sitting in the library. 

“What dead cat?” Thomas asked. He was distracted and not by the book he had been trying to read for the last past hour. He was distracted by thoughts of Francis’ fingers, about that night they weren’t talking about. 

“The one you killed with Bastian when you were seven,” Francis said. 

“Why do you want to know something like that?” 

“I want to know if it was an accident, how it happened if it was one. If it was a kitten or a stray, if you loved it or if Bastian did.” He looked at Thomas then, his eyes…so intend. “Is it even true?” 

Thomas closed his book and rubbed at his eyes. It was, that was the horror of it. It was. And it said so much about him – that day at the pond – so much he didn’t want Francis to know.   
“It’s not a pretty story,” he said eventually. 

“So it’s true then. Why did you do it?” 

“Because I was jealous,” Thomas answered. That was pretty much always his motivation when it came to Bastian. Since the first time he met the boy. Thomas had always been obsessively possessive of Bastian. Was that love? 

“Of a cat?” His brother asked, unbelievingly. 

“Why do you think I make Bastian share everything with me?” 

“And with everything you mean, everyone,” Francis answered. 

Even you, Thomas thought. He shouldn’t be thinking about that night. He shouldn’t be thinking about Francis that way. He shouldn’t contemplate the fucking why. Why hadn’t Francis been freaked out about it? 

“I guess,” Thomas replied. 

“You guess,” Francis snapped.  
Was this the moment he had been dreading? Was this the day they would talk about it.   
He looked at Francis and Francis looked back, unblinking, searching and then he sighed. “Just be nicer to him.” 

“Who?” 

“Aeobi,” Francis answered. 

“Why?” 

“Because I like him and because he’s nice to me.” 

Present tense, Thomas thought. How often was Francis seeing that black boy? What were they talking about when he visited? Why did he visit Bastian’s house without Thomas? 

“Well, I don’t like him and I don’t have to be nice to him if I don’t want to,” Thomas said. Part of that was of course a lie. 

Francis sighed again. “You don’t like him because Bastian adores the boy.” 

No one ever had said it like that. No one ever had made him face this feeling inside him that was more like a wolf trying to claw its way out of his chest. On some days, anyway.   
He wanted to say that Bastian would probably get bored soon enough, but it’s been years already and yes, Bastian had other lovers, they shared, but – But. It had been years and the black boy was still around.   
Thomas grabbed his book again and ignored his little brother until Francis took the hint and left him in peace. 

~Three~  
The cat hadn’t been much to look at, Thomas thought, it was just a cat. There were dozens of them always begging for some kind of attention. But Bastian had opened his little heart to the cat. Thomas hated it.   
He didn’t want to share. He hadn't known Bastian that long either, just a couple of days, really. Bastian's father was staying at the manor for some reason or other, Thomas didn’t care about. And even if he had cared enough to ask, he knew that his father would rather throw a book at his head than answer questions that had nothing to do with Thomas. Thomas had learned that lesson years ago.   
The cat had been white and gray and black, rather like a cow, Thomas remembered thinking. And Bastian...Bastian had been as trusting as the cat. 

Really, Thomas was thinking now, it hadn't been his fault. He had been probably born without a soul.   
He had shared that theory one night with Bastian, they had been drinking and watching people fuck at some mason or other, and then they had been suddenly alone and Thomas had let it slip.   
Bastian had looked at him hard for a long moment, really it had felt like eternity to Thomas, and then he had laughed. 'No way,' he had said. 'No way, no one who loves as possessively as you, could be born without a soul. Or maybe,' he had continued, 'Maybe we are all born without a soul and religion is bullshit.' 

'Religion is bullshit anyway,' Thomas had answered and they drank some more. 

Thomas had told Bastian a story about magical cats that one summer afternoon when they had been kids and Bastian had believed it and that is how the cat died. That had been the version he had liked to tell himself.   
But really, Thomas had to admit that, even if it was only to himself, he had wanted it gone, so he killed it.   
And lied about it too. 

~+~  
Thomas was dreaming and he knew he was dreaming.   
He was in Bastian's bedroom, but it was different too, the bed was all wrong, something was curled around his ankle, just holding on and it was strangely nice. Comforting, like the almost forgotten times Francis had been crawling into Thomas' bed when they had been children and it hadn't been considered weird, yet.  
The light was coming from the wrong direction too, somewhere behind and above him. 

“He likes it when I tell him what to do,” Bastian whispered in his ear and then licked it playfully. Bastian's arms slung around him, they felt strangely ghostly, unsubstantial. “He likes to be a good boy. Likes to be rewarded.” 

Thomas nodded: he had known that, of course. Bastian had told him a bit of it before. “And you like to reward him?” Thomas asked.

“Who wouldn’t? Look at him,” Bastian said and Thomas did, but even if the boy's body was beautiful and his cock flushed and ready, his face was made up of pale white, nearly see-through fabric with no features. 

Thomas woke up with a gasp, that was half a curse and half something else. His breathing was too loud in his own ears and the darkness of the closed curtains felt oppressive. He half expected to feel a presence there with him, but he knew there was no one and nothing there. He was alone.   
And despite everything he was semi hard too. 

~+~  
“I want to fuck him,” Thomas said. 

Bastian looked at him. They were having dinner, it was good dinner too, and there were servants around, but Thomas really didn't care. 

“Thomas-” 

“I don't care. I can't stop thinking about it,” Thomas cut him off, because that was the truth too. He couldn't stop obsessing about that boy Bastian was playing around with and not sharing and he knew that it was part curiosity and part jealously. But he wasn't looking at the jealously too closely. 

“You just don't like not having what Bastian has,” the little monkey said. 

Thomas didn't even look in his direction. He wasn't talking to the slave boy. 

Bastian sighed. “You know why I can't share-”

“Ask him,” Thomas interrupted him. “I want you to ask him.”   
The monkey snorted and then popped a grape into his perfect little mouth. Thomas let himself be distracted by it for a second, before he looked at Bastian again. “Ask him,” he repeated. “He didn't seem to have any objections when I was watching. Maybe I could watch again and we could go from there.”   
He was warming up to that idea and he could see in Bastian's face that his friend was too, because Bastian, despite everything, liked to share. Especially with Thomas. 

“Well, I guess there is no harm in asking.” 

“He could stop coming, could just quit the whole thing,” the monkey said. 

It was a reasonable objection, but at this point...Thomas thought he would prefer that to not having what Bastian was having. Dammit, he was a selfish bastard. 

“He could,” Bastian admitted. 

“But you don't think so,” the monkey said. 

Bastian smiled. “No, I don't think so.” 

“So you'll ask him then?” Thomas wanted to know. 

Bastian nodded. “I don't think he will let you fuck him.” 

Thomas took a sip of his fine wine. “Just ask him what he is willing to do, if anything with me present or involved.” 

“This should be interesting,” the black boy said. 

Thomas ignored him. 

~+~  
“You have a sweetheart?” Thomas asked at breakfast a few days later. Bastian still hasn’t told him if he asked his new fuckpet the question and he was desperate to be distracted. By anything. 

Francis looked at him over the rim of his porcelain cup of coffee. “A sweetheart?” 

“Yes, a young lady or a gentleman you like to meet in private,” Thomas clarified. 

Francis smiled and took a sip of his coffee. Thomas tried hard not to stare at his mouth, the way his lips curled around the rim of the porcelain.   
“What makes you think so?” 

Thomas tore his bread roll in two and spread butter on it. “You’re out more often than you used to and I know you’re not going to any social things, like balls or soirees or picnics. Because you hate pretty much everyone I think is fun.”

“Maybe I like to be alone, take long walks-“

“At night?” Thomas interrupted. In a weird way this was fun. Trying to pry a secret from his brother this way. A secret Thomas had some suspicions about. 

“Nature isn’t only beautiful in daylight, brother,” Francis said. 

For some reason hearing that word made Thomas pause. Francis hardly ever called him ‘brother’. It usually served as a reminder of something.   
“I know that,” Thomas replied. “But I don’t think you’re sitting around and watching night active wildlife.” 

Francis put the cup down. “I’m not. “ 

“Which brings me back to my original question. Do you have a sweetheart? And if so, why are you hiding them?” 

“If I had a sweetheart I’m sure you wouldn’t approve,” Francis said. 

“And you would hide that person?” 

“Most likely, I don’t like when you’re mean to people I care about,” Francis answered. 

“Is this about Bastian’s little black slave boy?” 

Francis sighed. “Why can’t you just be…civil?” 

“It’s not in my nature,” Thomas replied. 

~+~  
“There are rules,” Bastian said. 

He was still sweaty and covered in his own come and Thomas wasn’t looking much better. The room smelled like sex and lavender oil. It was just the two of them, which was rare enough these days, Thomas thought.   
They had started the night out by drinking and flirting with the same girls, but then ended up at Thomas’ mansion alone anyway.   
The sex had been languid and slow and quiet. Thomas hadn’t felt like talking and it seemed that Bastian hadn’t felt like riling him up either. 

“Of course, I didn’t expect anything else.” He turned and propped himself up, so he could look at Bastian’s face: flushed, sweaty hair curling around his neck, his lips red and swollen. He was still beautiful and Thomas still felt tenderness towards him. But it was different now. Everything was different now. 

“He doesn’t want you to touch him,” Bastian said. His eyes were closed, his lips shiny. 

“Okay…” 

“He doesn’t want you to see his face,” Bastian continued. 

“Is he ugly?” Thomas asked, because he knew that Bastian sometimes didn’t care for beauty if there was something else he liked about a person. 

“No, he is not ugly,” Bastian answered with a smile. 

“He’s beautiful then?” 

“Handsome, for sure, in a boyish way,” Bastian replied. 

“And he doesn’t want me to see his face. Will you put a pillowcase over his head again? Or something else. More fitted.” 

“He actually didn’t like having something over his head. It had been a necessity when I heard you outside the door,” Bastian confessed, opening his eyes and turning to him. 

“So…what then?” Thomas asked. 

“A blindfold, obviously,” Bastian replied, reaching out to stroke his fingers over Thomas’s face. “For you.” 

They’ve done that before. At the beginning when their games had been pretty tame. More playful for sure. Thomas licked Bastian’s fingers when they brushed over his lips. And then sucked them into his mouth just for the hell of it.   
“Would that be alright with you?” He asked. 

Thomas liked to be in control, liked to be the aggressor, but for this, he thought, yes that was something he could do. He was so obsessed with the boy with no face that he was haunting Thomas in his dreams. Every masturbation fantasy was about him lately or those stole moments with Francis.  
He let Bastian’s finger slide out of his mouth. “There isn’t much choice, is there, if I want to have him?” 

“No there isn’t.” 

“It’s not like you to indulge one of your playthings that way,” Thomas remarked. 

“He’s different,” Bastian replied. 

“Obviously,” Thomas said. 

Bastian was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the boy too. “Or are you afraid , I’ll do something horrible to him?” 

“Like you made me do with the cat?” Bastian asked. 

“I-“

“I don’t think you would hurt him. Not badly at least. You didn’t hurt Aeobi either.” 

“I was, I am, horrible to that little monkey of yours.” 

Bastian smiled. “Yes, you are, but you could be worse, way way worse. You play by my rules. ”   
Which were partly Aeobi’s rules, Thomas knew that and he still respected them.   
“And he knows I sometimes enjoy it when you’re being your best worse, so he enjoys it too.” Bastian grabbed him by his neck and pulled him down so he could kiss Thomas. “You think you’re worse than you really are.” 

“Maybe you’re just deluded about my true nature,” Thomas replied. 

“Maybe we both are and the answer is somewhere in between,” Bastian said, and then kissed him again. 

~+~  
“So, rules,” Bastian said, as he was tying the blindfold around Thomas’ eyes. 

“I’m listening,” Thomas replied. He was sitting in a comfortable chair and just letting Bastian do his thing. 

“And you will follow these rules, won’t break them, you understand?” Bastian said. 

“Will you spank me if I don’t obey?” Thomas joked. 

Bastian grabbed his hair and pulled hard. Thomas winced. “I mean it, you will not break the rules, you will not ruin this for him or me or you, you will not break his trust in me. Do you understand? This is not a joke.” 

“Jesus, yes. I understand,” Thomas replied and had the absurd urge to apologize. 

“Good,” Bastian said, let go of his hair and kissed his forehead gently. “He won’t speak.” 

“To me or at all?” Thomas asked. 

“At all,” Bastian replied. 

Thomas nodded, if the boy wasn’t going to speak it meant that they knew each other well enough that there was a chance Thomas would recognize his voice. The thought made his heart beat faster. He had seen the boy’s face then, somewhere. Had spoken to him. Thomas knew him. 

“I’m allowed to speak, right?” 

Bastian laughed. “You can talk as much as you want to. I will stay in the room. I will talk as well, narrate.”   
Thomas thought he was going to die, Bastian had such a wonderful filthy voice in the bedroom.   
“Are you ready?” Bastian asked. 

“Yes,” Thomas said, with a groan. 

He didn’t hear the boy come in, he was most likely barefoot. 

“He’s naked and he’s looking at you, taking you in.” 

Thomas swallowed. “You should come closer, boy.” 

The boy did. Thomas could feel his legs brush against his own knees. There was a noise – kissing, his brain realized.   
“Are you two kissing?” 

Someone moaned, softly. “Yes,” Bastian said. “He tastes very sweet and his lips are-“

“Don’t,” Thomas interrupted. “I want to find out for myself.” 

“I don’t think he will kiss you,” Bastian said. 

“He will suck my dick, right?” 

There was a sharp intake of breath and then Bastian said, “Yes, he will.” 

“Good,” Thomas said, “On your knees then boy. I want to feel as much of you as I can, without using my hands. Which means, you are going to touch me.” 

The boy’s hand brushed his collarbone and then parted the shirt he was wearing, gently. His fingers were warm and soft. His touch was hesitant at first but got bolder with every second. He ran his hand down the center of Thomas' chest and then over the bulge forming in his breeches. Thomas couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped from his mouth. 

“He’s biting his lip,” Bastian commented, just as the boy sank down to his knees. Thomas could feel the movement, and then the boy’s lips on the bare skin of his stomach.   
“God, you two look so good together, Thomas, I want to eat you up,” Bastian continued. 

Thomas didn’t know if he wanted Bastian to touch him too or not. This was a formidable form of torture.  
And then the boy pushed aside the fabric covering his cock, stroked it gently, pulled it out and kissed it like you would a lover or something precious and Thomas couldn’t help the hiss or bucking his hips.   
He was engulfed in wet heat, it was perfect, words were beyond him and he didn’t want to think anyway.   
His fingers were itching to stoke the boy’s cheek, his lips, his yaw. Any part of him really. He wanted – so many things, but was keeping his hands to himself, curling them into fists at his sides. 

The boy sucked hard and then let Thomas’ cock slip out of his mouth. Thomas swore. “Don’t stop now!” 

“He says you can put your hands in his hair,” Bastian said. 

Thomas didn’t even care how the hell they were communicating without words, he nodded. The boy went back to sucking his cock and Bastian put Thomas’ hands gently on the boy’s head. His hair was soft and dry and familiar in the way all hair kind of is. He tangled his fingers in the boy’s hair and cursed the blindfold. He wanted to see. He pulled the boy closer instead, thrusting into his mouth shallowly.   
The boy’s fingers buried in his breeches, he could feel the nails through the fabric. 

“You’re close, aren’t you? I can tell,” Bastian said. 

Thomas nodded. 

“In his mouth?” Bastian asked. 

“Yes,” he got out. 

The boy sucked a bit harder and Thomas lost it. The boy licked him through it and then let go and tried to pull away. Thomas fingers were still tangled in his hair. 

“Let go, Thomas,” Bastian said, gently, stroking his hands and Thomas did. He felt like he had just had his brain sucked out through his dick. He didn’t know if it was the boy or the blindfold. He didn’t really care at the moment. 

“Are you going to fuck him now?” He asked. 

“No,” Bastian answered. “I’m going to watch him finger himself and then I’ll send him home.” 

“Cruel,” Thomas said. 

“Maybe,” he replied and then to the boy, “Wait in Aeobi’s room for me.” 

Thomas waited until he heard the click of the door before he took of the blindfold. 

“And?” Bastian asked. 

“It was good,” Thomas replied. “Did you teach him how to suck cock?” Because it was exactly how Thomas loved it. 

“Aeobi did,” Bastian said, grinning. “It seems he’s a good teacher.” 

Thomas only nodded, then stretched, got up and put himself together again. “I’ll see you Friday then.” 

Bastian smiled. “Of course. I’ll tell you everything I’m going to do to him tonight.” 

Thomas couldn’t wait. 

~+~  
“I thought about taking you to a whorehouse. So you could lose you virginity however you wanted,” Thomas said one evening a few days later to his brother. 

Francis looked at him for a too long moment. His eyes were bottomless pools of …something. Nameless. “Ever the romantic.” 

Thomas laughed. 

“Instead I lost it with Bastian and his black boy and you,” Francis said.

So this was the moment, Thomas thought. Was that how Francis had wanted it? Should Thomas ask? Should he be even thinking about it? “You still have your virginity, because everyone knows that boys don’t count.” 

Francis snorted. “Right, I don’t buy this bullshit and I know you don’t buy this bullshit either. Besides,” he continued, “I don’t think I can be a virgin when I had a cock inside me.” 

Thomas looked at him sharply. “In your mouth?” It was only a vague hope, really. And why was he jealous anyway? That was…stupid and dangerous. 

“Why, does that not count either?” Francis asked. 

“No, it doesn’t-“

“Well, in that case, you might be relieved to know that yes in my mouth, but also up my ass too. I’m officially not a virgin anymore.”

“Who?” It was out of Thomas’ mouth before he could stop it. He had no right to ask, no right to know, but he wanted to. So bad it hurt. 

Francis let his head fall back on the back of the sofa he was lounging on. There was a kiss or bite mark under his chin, faint but there. Evidence. “What does it matter?” 

“I want to know. Now that you’re…don’t you want to tell me?” 

“And what if I love him?” Francis asked. “Will he have an accident in the lake?” 

Thomas laughed. “No, of course not.” 

“Will you punch him?” Francis asked, looking at him again, instead of at the ceiling. 

“No…should I? Did he force you?” 

“No, he didn’t. It's not in his nature,” Francis answered. 

“So, you wanted it?” 

“You remember, I’m sure, the night I fucked Aeobi? We fucked him?” 

“Yes,” Thomas answered, because of course he remembered. Would probably always remember. 

“Even though you two were cruel, even I lost myself in it for a while there, it was my first time being inside someone else, after all, he liked it.” 

“Yes, everyone had a good time.” 

Francis smiled. “I wanted to feel what he was feeling.” 

“You let Bastian fuck you?” Thomas asked. 

Francis laughed. “Funny, you know. He was so annoyed that I in fact didn’t. Asked if I let you do it.” 

Thomas looked at him sharply. 

“Because I trust you and because I know you love me,” Francis explained. 

Had Francis wanted to, Thomas wondered. “I do. Love you.” He said quietly. 

“I gave it to Aeobi,” Francis said. “And it was nothing like what you did or Bastian did. It wasn’t a game, it wasn’t vicious or bordering on cruelty. It was good.” 

Thomas didn’t know how to feel about it. And then something else pulled at his brain. “Why would Bastian ask if you’ll let me fuck you? Why would he-“ 

“Haven’ you figure it out yet?” Francis cut him off. “He likes to call me Little Lord.” 

Thomas was out of his chair and tangling his fingers in Francis’ hair before he could really think about what he was doing. On some level he had probably known.   
Francis was titling his face up, his eyes were bright and earnest. He licked his lips. It was an invitation.   
So Thomas kissed him.


End file.
